Aftermath
by twistedartist
Summary: After the battle, after the excitement, after the blush of new love begins to fade...
1. Chapter 1

It had been months. Months since that faithful night that Alice had fallen into his life, and months since they had played her father for all that scratch. Her mother had been horrified when she learned that Alice had discovered the circumstances of her 'adoption' and had pleaded with the girl not to reveal any of the circumstances to any of the family, or the public. So, while Whitey walked off with $10 million American, Alice had received a rather generous trust fund, of nearly $15 million. Her father had been less than pleased with the situation, and had tried to convince Alice of the follies this path had. Alice had laughed, kissed her mother on the cheek, and informed them of her change of major as she waltzed out of their home in New York. She had purchased a large townhouse right in the middle of London, moving herself in, and transferring to the University of Westminster in short order. Her parents were still paying her tuition, but had taken a large step back from her life.

The first time Whitey saw her house, all he could do was whistle. They were moving the last of her things in, as delivery men set the furniture she had ordered. Alice laughed at his expression as he turned around in her foyer.

"This is the biggest fucking place I've ever been in."

"Oh come on Whitey, You've been in the Duchess' palace."

"Never past the back entrance, love."

"Oh." Alice turned away as she processed his meaning. How easily she sometimes forgot his past. They spent the rest of the day stowing boxes in the appropriate rooms, until darkness began to fall. Alice quietly suggested dinner, and they retreated to her kitchen. That was the night Whitey found out Alice couldn't cook, but it was also the night Alice found out that Whitey could do phenomenal things with a skillet and eggs.

It was less than six months later that Whitey moved into her house, after having been grazed by a stray bullet after a firefight occurred in his block of flats. Alice had insisted as she watched him be stitched up at the emergency. So, he had moved all his things into her house, and she gave him a room to put his things into. His whole flat fit into one bedroom in her house. He cheerfully created a comfy living area, but spent his nights with her. Now, nine months down the road, she was done with school for the year, and very angry with him. He wasn't sure why, but he could hear her slamming drawers and doors. He quietly walked over to their bedroom, and stood in the doorway, leaning against the jamb.

"What's wrong, love?" she started and turned towards him. There were tears running down her face, and she hastily brushed them away.

"You should know Whitey." she huffed, and continued throwing clothes into a duffel. He came over and sat on the bed.

"What are you talking about?" He leaned over and reached for her hand. She pulled away from his reach, and zipped the bag shut. She hefted it onto her shoulder, then reached down for her laptop bag and purse. He followed her as she stomped down the stairs and up to the door.

"Alice…" she held up a hand to stop him.

"If you really want to know, go look in our bathroom." He watched helplessly as she climbed into a cab and disappeared into the night. He ran up the stairs to their bathroom, and there sitting on the counter was a magazine, open to a gorgeous ring, and a positive pregnancy test.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two, banged out while avoiding my fiancee' while he is temporarily working two jobs and acting an ass. I've been reading books set in Ireland, and watching British TV for 2 weeks, and am now stuck talking like them. It's ridiculous, and annoying, and at least I haven't adopted an accent. Lol. Not proof-read, or Brit-picked, just spell and grammar checked. Enjoy!**

* * *

Whitey sat down on the edge of the bed, the test in his hand. A tear ran down his face as he realized what she was talking about. He had gotten her pregnant. Knocked up. Up the duff. Damnit, he wasn't ready for this. SHE wasn't ready for this. She was still in school, clawing her way through a master. He was a no account cabbie, despite the influx of money. What the hell was he going to do? He stood shakily and dropped the stick in the trash and walked over to the phone. He picked it up and dialed a number he hadn't dialed in years.

"'Ello?"

"March, it's Whitey."

"Whitey… it's been…."

"Years, yeah. Listen man, I have a problem, can you meet me at this address in an hour?"

"Sure mate. Anything for me little brother."

Whitey jumped at the pounding knock on the door. He rushed over and opened it to reveal a tall blonde man, who bore a striking resemblance to himself.

"Winston!"

"Marshall, thank god." He was enveloped in a hug, complete with requisite back pounding.

"What is going on little brother?"

"Well…" Whitey launched into a long winded explanation of how he met Alice, his abstaining from previous behaviors, and finally this morning's events. March just sat and listened to him.

"Well, what should I do?"

"Shouldn't you go track your woman down?"

"Probably…" Whitey stood, and March followed him up the stairs.

"How did you land digs like this?"

"Oh, it's Alice's place." He shoved open the door to 'his' room. "This is my space."

"Don't sleep here do ya?"

"No, we share a room." Whitey shifted some papers on his desk.

"Does she spend any time in here?"

"Not really. She spends most of her time in the sunroom…"

"Then what the fuck are we doing up here? If she left clues to her whereabouts, they would be where she spends time." Whitey dropped the books he was holding and led the way to the sunroom.

"This her planner?" March held up a little leather-bound folio.

"Ya, it is. Give it 'er March." Whitey snatched the little book out of his brother's hands and flipped it open. He turned pages noisily, mumbling now and then about the notes there.

"Ah. Here we are. Alice Potts. Her best friend in New York."

"Funny, they have the same first name."

"Shut it March." Whitey quickly dialed the number.

"Misses Potts!"

"What do you want Whitey?"

"Do you know where me Alice has gone?"

"Not exactly…"

"What does that mean?"

"Well, she didn't tell me where she was off to, but when we went to London as teens with her father, she loved going to the Alice statue outside of Moor House. She liked it. Said it was her place to think. If your needing to find her, I would check hotels around there."

"Thank ye Ma'am." Whitey hung up the phone, and then threw the handset across the room. It clattered to the floor as her spun around to flop on a chaise near Alice's desk.

"Bloody fuckin' 'ell."

"What? Where did the 'gel say she was?"

"Near Moor house."

"Oh."

"Oh is right. Right back 'Orrible 'Arry's territory. Hopefully she is staying somewhere spiffy enough to be off his radar." March shook his head and sat down in the chair in front of the desk.

"Well."

"Well what?" Whitey raised his head to look at his brother.

"Well, let's go find her huh?" Whitey let out a heavy breath and flopped back down.

"Yea lets."


End file.
